Guarded
by Pearl Gatsby
Summary: Someone lived in the neighborhood or down the street, saw or heard them in the front yard, and it's all over school the next morning: Ben Solo got the cops called on him last night. :: a high school AU drabble


**My hand slipped and I wrote a high school AU drabble on my phone (!).**

 **Sorry to anyone waiting for "Further Research is Needed"—I changed my mind about a plot point (because I finally have a plot, kind of—LOL) so I'm working through it.**

 **.**

Someone lived in the neighborhood or down the street, saw or heard them in the front yard, and it's all over school the next morning: Ben Solo got the cops called on him last night.

He's never been popular in the first place—Ben is too smart for his own good and too big for anyone to mess with, though not necessarily in a good way. His nose and his ears are oversized, his shoulders broad in a way that girls haven't yet realized is attractive; and in class he's cold, at best stoic. Ben looks like a rich kid, wears clothes and drives a car that labels him that way, but he's lacking in social graces. His classmates have always given him wide berth, but today especially they skitter out of his way, whispering behind his back.

They're saying Ben was fighting with his father, saying he was throwing punches. It was loud. There was swearing. There were threats. They all know about Ben Solo's father—blue-collar, brash. His mother is the mayor; she might even run for Congress. She's small and dignified and almost never seen with either of them.

Rey is a freshman. She's heard about Ben, noticed him—she's good at noticing things. Since Maz adopted her over the summer things have gotten a lot better, but Rey wouldn't have made it as long as she did in the system without learning to keep watch. So when Ben drifts to the far edge of the long courtyard where some students take their lunch and sits on the curb about ten feet to her left, she just watches him, at first.

He opens his bookbag—one of those single-strap satchel-types—and pulls out a stick of beef jerky, which he unwraps and consumes quickly. Rey peels her orange neatly and eats alongside him, observing how he doesn't meet his classmates' stares, watching instead some neutral point in the distance.

Presently he notices her.

"Hey," she calls out when he meets her gaze.

He nods in greeting, crumpling up the plastic wrapper in one hand. His face is still stony at best, but in the moment he looks at her Rey sees something in his eyes that feels familiar.

She picks up her backpack and moves toward him, cradling orange and peel in one hand. "Can I sit here?" she indicates the spot next to him.

He shrugs. "Don't know why you'd want to." But that's not a "no," so she sits beside him on the curb and resumes eating the orange.

"I'm not going to talk about it," Ben says, still looking off at nothing in particular.

"I'm Rey," she says, ignoring his comment. He huffs in response. "I almost got arrested once. Last year." When he looks up, she's offering him a tight-lipped smile.

He sneers. "I'm sorry, but I have to say I'm not impressed." He turns his attention, obstinately, back to nothing in particular.

"I'm not trying to impress you," she explains, "I'm just saying. I threw a glass at my foster dad—it shattered and went everywhere. His nose was all cut up."

Ben looks over now, giving her a sharp look.

"But it was self-defense. That's what they decided. He was keeping us home from school, putting us to work and..." Rey catches herself, clamping her mouth shut. Digging her nails into the orange peel, she finally finishes, "And some other stuff."

"What are you telling me for?"

Rey keeps making half-moons with her fingernails, denting a delicate pattern into the peel. "Just... that people have their reasons."

Ben hums, which doesn't mean much of anything. Rey eats the last section of her orange. Both of them look out in the distance. The edge of the courtyard meets up with a road that leads to the bus circle; Rey concentrates on counting the number of buses.

"Are you safe?"

Rey looks back at him and he's turned toward her. The concern in his expression is not unfamiliar to her after the year she's had. "Yeah."

"Good."

They resume their contemplation of the buses, backs to the other students.

"Are you a... sophomore?"

Rey is a little surprised by his question and looks at him again. He's studying her. "Ah," she blushes, which is definitely not part of the plan, and nearly forgets the answer herself. "Ah, I'm—a freshman."

"If anyone gives you shit I'll land the first blow—"

"Second."

He's surprised by her interruption.

"The second blow. The first one's mine." She grins; he allows his mouth to turn up in the shadow of a smile; and for a moment they enjoy a joke that isn't just a joke. Rey feels a little twinge of the truth and looks off at the buses again.

"I mean it, though," Ben says, ducking his head forward so he's in her line of sight. "You're not alone."

Rey drops her eyes to where his free hand rests on the curb. Gently she places her much smaller hand on top of his. "Neither are you."


End file.
